"micka" poems
“who birthed the seas?”
it was snowing,
but it fell upon us warm and scattered,
like ash,
like dust,
i turned my head,
and watched you speak.
“sometimes i wonder who cradled her when she was just a puddle,
who nourished her to grow this big.”
i felt as if seas could grow in me.
“stay”
i begged,
“this city is so empty,
even with all these waves at its back.
and,
and stay,
for me,
because these feet don't know the route back.”
you whispered back, eyes shut,
“i want to know this body's delicacy.
how light would it need to be to sink?”
“micka, please.”
“micka?”
“and when do we ever find the time,
that is what i truly wonder,
time to search the sea,
time to fill our empty stomachs with its insides?
everything is just so rapid,
i feel like i can't breathe.”
i krept closer, the tide rising and falling like a set of lungs.
“stay,”
i said again,
watching while your hands grazed gentle waters,
searching for depth.
you hummed,
looked over and pressed a wet palm against my face.
the sea was a silent wash of stillness beside us.
your breath was loud against my cheek,
be comfortable, darling
I’ll be here awhile.
Dec 13, 2018
Dec 13, 2018 at 12:51 AM UTC
she reminds people of hugs and
mermaid hair and sunshine-filled
smiles of stained lips dipped fiery
red and she's a walking proof that
being kind doesn't need to be acted
through frivolous bravado nor
does it have to be broadcast for
everyone to see for she has long
set that example for all of us
to be inspired by
she's simple in extraordinary ways,
she's lovely in heightened measurements, she's as cute as a button.
stay golden, micka.
Feb 16, 2016
Feb 16, 2016 at 7:20 AM UTC